Gerda heard me coming, and met me at the same spot where we had
first spoken of this matter. She saw that I had come to tell her
what we had said thereof.
"What of the others?" she asked anxiously.
"They have spoken in all thought for you, even as I knew they
would," I answered. "We are at one in thinking that the sea grave
is most fitting."
She asked me why, as if to satisfy some doubts which she yet had,
and I must needs tell her therefore what our own dangers were,
though I made as light of them as I could. I told of the perils of
a lee shore to this under-manned ship; of the chance of meeting
another ship at any time here on the Norway coast; of crews and of
wreckers who would hold naught sacred; of the chance of our
drifting thus idly for many days in this summer weather--all
chances which were more likely than the quiet coming to the islands
where my father's name was known and honoured enough for us to find
help. From these chances it was best to save the king, who was our
care, and at once. She heard me very bravely to the end.
"So let it be," she said, sighing. "You will suffer the treasure to
go with him?"
"That is as you will, lady," I said; "it is yours. Was it the wish
of Thorwald that it should pass to the mound with him?"
She glanced at me, half proudly and half as in some rebuke.
"Thorwald would ask for naught but his arms," she said. "The
treasure was mine, for he did but hoard to give. I would set him
forth as became Odin's champion. He was no gold lover."
"Should it not be, then, as he would have wished?" I said. "Let him
pass to the depths with his war gear, and so through Aegir's halls
to the place of Odin, as a warrior, and unburdened with the gold he
loved not at all."
She looked sharply at me, and shrank away a little, half turning
from me.
"Is the treasure so dear to you men after all?" she asked coldly.
That angered me for the moment, and I felt my face flush red, but I
held myself in.
"No," I answered as coldly. "These arms you have given us are all
the treasure we need or could ask. They are a warrior's treasure,
and mayhap we hold them as dear as did Thorwald. What else may lie
in those chests we do not know or care, save only for one reason."
"What is that?" she asked, glancing at me again as if she knew that
she had spoken unkindly.
"That if it goes into the sea depths it leaves you, Lady Gerda,
helpless. When you were at home, with your folk round you, the
hoarded spoils might be spent in all honour to their winner without
thought of why he had kept them thus. Now, in the power they have
for you lies your comfort, and maybe the regaining of your home.
Doubtless, the king hoarded at last for you, and we cannot see your
wealth pass from you without a word to bid you think twice of what
you do here and as things are."
"Aye," she said bitterly, "I am helpless--beholden to you three
strangers," and she turned away swiftly, going to the gunwale and
leaning her arms and head on it as in a storm of grief.
Hard words indeed those seemed; but I knew well enough that they
were meant in no unkindness. They came from the depths of her utter
loneliness. Only a day or two ago she had been the queen in her
little realm, and now--well, I did not wonder at her. Few women in
her place would have kept the brave heart she did before us, and
this weakness would pass. But it was a long while before she turned
to me again, so that I began to fear that in some way I had set
things too bluntly before her, and wished that Dalfin had been sent
to manage better in his courtly way. Yet, I had only spoken the
truth in the best manner I could. At last she straightened herself,
and looked once more at me. There was the light of a wan smile on
her face, too, though she had been weeping.
"Forgive me, jarl," she said softly. "I have wronged you and those
good friends of ours by my foolish words. Indeed, I hardly knew
what I said, for I was hard pressed with the thoughts of what had
been. I do believe that you three have not a thought of yourselves
in this matter."
She set her hand on my arm pleadingly, and I raised it and kissed
it in answer, having no word at all to say. After all, I do not
know that any was needed.
"Then I am forgiven?" she said more brightly. "Now, tell me what
may be done if I keep the treasure. I must needs hear good
reasons."
Good reasons enough there were, and they needed no long setting
into words. If she had not enough to raise men and so win back her
home from Arnkel, at least there must be sufficient to keep her in
comfort in any land until she could find a passage back to Norway,
and claim guardianship and help from Thorwald's friends. We could
and would help her in either way. She heard me to the end, and then
sighed a little, and said that I was altogether right.
"Whether aught of these plans may come to pass is a matter which
the Norns {1} have in their hands," she said. "We shall see.
But now I am sure that I may not lightly part with the treasure as
I had meant, though it is hard for me to forego what I had set my
heart on. It is true that all was hoarded for me--at least since my
father died. It is well that Thorwald never knew the sore need
there would be for what he could set by for me."
Then I tried to tell her that all our wish was to lighten the
trouble as much as we might, but she stayed me, laughing as if well
content.
"Nay; but you shall mind that pact which we made at the first,
neither more nor less."
She signed to me to go to the others and set all in readiness for
what must be done; but as I bowed and turned to go, she stayed me.
"For us Norse folk," she said, "there is one word needed, perhaps.
I heard my men cry the last farewell to Thorwald as the ship left
the shore. The temple rites were long over. All that was due to a
son of Odin has been done."
Now, it is needless for me to say that I could not tell all that
had passed. All I had to say was that Gerda was content with our
plan, and all three of us were somewhat more easy in our minds. It
had been by no means so certain that she would be so.
Now we made no more delay, but quietly and reverently Bertric
showed us how to make all ready for such a sea burial as he had
many a time seen before. So it was not long before the old king lay
with his feet toward the sea on the fathom of planking which we had
lowered from where it was made to unship for a gangway amidships
for shore-going and the like. We had set him so that it needed but
to raise the inboard end of this planking when the time came that
he should pass from his ship to his last resting in the quiet
water; and he was still in all his arms, with his hands clasped on
the hilt of his sword beneath the shield which covered his breast,
but now shrouded in the new sail of one of his boats in the
seaman's way.
At this time the fog was thinning somewhat, and the low sun seemed
likely to break through it now and then. It was very still all
round us, for there was no sound of ripple at the bows or wash of
water alongside, and the swell which lifted us did not break. Only
there was the little creaking of the yard and the light beating of
the idle sail against the mast as the ship rolled and swung to the
swell. Some little draught of wind, or the send of the waves, had
set her bows to it, and she rode the water like a sea bird at rest.
Gerda came at a word when all was ready, and stood beside us with
clasped hands. And so for a little time we four stood with a space
between us and the head of that rough sea bier, and over against us
beyond it the open gangway and the heaving, gray water, which now
and then rose slowly and evenly almost to the deck level and again
sank away. It was almost as if, when the end had come, that we
waited for some signal which there was none to give.
What those two of the other faith had said to one another I do not
know; but for a little time they stood with bare, bent heads as in
one accord, and I saw them make their holy sign on their breasts
before they moved. Then Bertric signed to me that I should help him
lift the inboard end of the planking, and we stepped forward
together and bent to do so. Even as my hands touched the wood there
came a sudden rushing, and I felt a new lift of the ship, and into
the open gangway poured the head of a great, still wave, flooding
the deck around our feet, and hiding in its smother of white foam
and green water that which lay before us, so that we must needs
start back hastily. The ship lurched and righted herself, and the
wave was gone. Gone, too, was the old king--without help of ours.
The sea he loved had taken him, drawing him softly to itself with
the ebb of the water from the deck, and covering the place
alongside, where I had feared for Gerda to see the dull splash and
eddy of the end, with a pall of snow-white foam.
For a long moment we stood motionless, half terrified. Neither
before this had any sea come on board since we lowered the gunwale
nor did any come afterward. Gerda clutched my arm, swaying with the
ship, and then she cried in a strange voice:
"It is Aegir! Aegir himself who has taken him!"
That was in my mind also, and no wonder. The happening seemed
plainly beyond the natural. I turned to Gerda, fearing lest she
should be over terrified, and saw her staring with wide eyes into
the mists across that sea grave, wondering; and then of a sudden
she pointed, and cried once more:
"Look! what is yonder? Look!"
Then we all saw what she gazed at. As it were about a ship's length
from us sailed another ship, tall and shadowy and gray, holding the
same course as ourselves, and keeping place with us exactly, rising
and falling over the hills of water as we rose and fell. And we
could see that she had the same high dragon stem and stern as our
ship, and on her decks we could make out forms of men amidships,
dim and misty as the ship herself. Yet though we could see her
thus, in no wise could we make out the sea on which she rode--so
thick was the curling fog everywhere, though the sun was trying to
find a way through it, changing its hue from gray to pearly white.
Now, Bertric started from the stillness which held us, and hailed
the ship loudly.
"Ahoy! what ship is that?"
The hail rang, and seemed to echo strangely in the fog, but there
came no answer. Nor was there any when he hailed again and for the
third time. I thought that the outline of the strange sail grew
more dim at the first cry, and again that it was plainer, for the
mist across the sun drifted, though we could feel no breeze.
"It is Aegir's ship," whispered Gerda, still clinging to me.
"Thorwald is therein," and she raised her hand as if to wave a
farewell, hardly knowing what she did.
At that, one of the shadowy forms on the strange deck lifted its
arm with the same gesture, and at the same moment. Still no sound
came to us, close as the ship must surely be--so close that we
might have heard even a foot fall on her deck in the stillness that
weighed on us.
Gerda's hand sank to her side, and she swayed against me so that I
had to support her hastily, for she was fainting. I do not know
what my face was like as I saw that ghostly greeting, but Dalfin's
was white and amazed, and he crossed himself, muttering I know not
what prayers.
But for all that I heard what was like a half laugh come from
Bertric, and he went quickly aft to the sternpost and rested his
hand on it for a moment, still watching the ship. And as he went,
one of that ghostly crew went also, and stood as he stood, with
outstretched arm set on the dim sternpost. Then the fog turned
dusky and gray again, and the ship alongside us was gone as it
came, suddenly, and in silence, and Bertric came back to us.
Gerda's faintness was passing, for she was but overwrought, though
she still leaned against me.
"What is it?" she asked. "What does it mean?"
"There is no harm in it, lady," answered Bertric. "I have seen it
once or twice before, and naught came thereof."
"It is the ship of ghosts," said Dalfin. "I have heard tell of it.
It comes from the blessed isles which holy Brendan sought."
"Nay," said Gerda; "it is Aegir's ship, and it came for my
grandsire."
"Maybe," answered Dalfin. "I ken not who Aegir is of whom you
speak. But the ship may indeed have come for Thorwald to take him
to some land, like those isles, beyond our ken."
"Aye, to Valhalla," said Gerda. "Take me to my place now, for I am
weary, and would be alone. I have no fear of aught more."
I helped her forward, and she thanked me, saying that now she would
be at rest in her mind. And, indeed, so were we all, for that
penthouse, and its awesome tenant, had weighed on us more than we
had cared to say. We would clear the decks of it all in the
morning.
All that night long we floated on a windless sea, and the fog
hemmed us round until it began to thin and lift with the first rays
of the rising sun. But the night had no more visions for me, and
with the morning I was fresh and fit for aught, after a great swim
in the still water, and breakfast.
Then we set to work and cleared away the penthouse, stowing its
heavy timbers beneath the deck along the keel, for they would in
some degree take the place of the ballast which the little ship
needed. There was some water in her bilge from the great wave, and
that we baled out easily, but she was well framed and almost new.
It was good to see the run of the decks clear again from that
unhandy barrier.
I think that Gerda waited till all was gone, and we were wondering
how best to stow all the goods which lumbered the deck. Then she
came to us, looking brighter and content, with words of good morrow
in all comradeship, which were pleasant to hear, and so stood and
looked at the things we were busied with.
"I have seen our men take things from below the decks," she said.
"Is it not possible to stow all, or nearly all, there? For it may
be as well that folk whom we may meet with shall not see that we
have these chests on board."
That was good counsel; and though there is not much stowage room on
such a ship as this, it could be done. Still the wind did not come,
and there was time. Far off, toward where the land should be, the
fog still hung in banks, and doubtless Heidrek was still wrapped in
it. Not that we had much fear of him now, though it was certain
that he would not care to lose us without a search.
Now we raised some of the deck planking aft, and found a floor laid
in one place for stowage on either side of the keel. It would take
all we wished to get out of sight from off the deck.
"Now let me show you what is in these chests," Gerda said brightly.
"Then you will know how to set them."
I think she had a sort of sad pleasure in going through these
things. One by one, as we brought them to the open place, she
lifted the lids of the chests, and in them was treasure more than I
had ever heard of. Maybe it was only a small hoard for one who had
been a king in more than name in his time, but there was enough to
make Gerda a rich woman in any land where she might care to make a
home, if only we could save it for her. One chest held bags of
silver coin, stamped with the heads of many kings, and won from
many lands, though most came from the English shores, where the
burgesses of coast towns would pay ransom for their safety when the
longships sailed into their havens with the menace of fire and
sword. In another smaller chest, hardly more than a casket, was
gold--rings and links and chains of the sort with which men trade
by weight, and withal, some coined money from the East and from the
British land.
Jewels there were also, brooches of gold and silver and gilded
bronze, set with gems and bright with enamel, and arm rings and
torques of gold. Women's jewels there were, necklaces and
bracelets, hung with the round golden plates, coin-like, with the
face of Thor stamped on them, and written runes. Two bales there
were also of wondrous stuffs from the looms of eastern lands, gold
inwoven and shining, bought in far-off Gardariki, where the great
fair is, or won from hall and palace in the wars of Harald
Fairhair. And not the least part of the treasure lay in the arms,
which were almost beyond our pricing, so good were they, whether
mail or helm or weapon. Yet none were better than those Gerda had
given us yesterday in our need.
"It is no small treasure which you have made me keep," Gerda said
somewhat sadly, as we set the last of the chests in their hiding.
"You will find a use for it, dear lady," Dalfin said cheerfully.
"It is a great thing to have somewhat of the sort to fall back on."
She sighed a little, and turned to a big plain chest which she had
bidden us leave on deck.
"You three fall back on that," she said, laughing. "It is no part
of the treasure, and is here by mistake. Yet I know what it holds,
and you may be glad thereof."
Dalfin threw it open, and laughed also. It was full of the holiday
clothes of some half-dozen of the head courtmen of the old king;
blue and brown jerkins, and white and blue hose, short red cloaks,
and fair linen underwear. They had brought it for the feasting
after the mound was made, and had forgotten it in the onset of
Heidrek. I have seen men of some rank wear no better. Thorwald's
men were in good case.
"You have made new men of us from head to foot," said Dalfin
gleefully. "In very truth we have sore need of change."
Now we went to replace the deck planking, and she bethought
herself.
"Let us keep the little chest with the gold where we can reach it
easily," she said. "Supposing we are wrecked it will be well to
have it at hand."
That was wise, and we set it on deck again. It was not more than
one could carry easily, though heavy, having iron rings at either
end as handles. I took it aft out of the way, and set it by the
steering bench. And then we ended our work, and things were
shipshape once more.
It was very hot as the sun rose higher. There was a feeling of
thunder in the air, and Gerda was glad to seek the shelter of her
awning from the heat and glare from sea and sky. The ship swayed
gently to the dying swell, and the sail flapped idly against the
mast, while ever we looked to see the longships of Heidrek coming
in the offing in search of us.
Once I climbed the mast, and was glad to see no sign of his sails.
Though we must have baffled him for the time, we could not have
sailed far ere the wind failed. Presently, in the shelter of the
boats, we fitted ourselves out afresh from the courtman's chest,
and felt more like ourselves again. We set the mail we needed no
longer for the time in the chest, and that done, longed for the
wind which did not come. It was breathless.
The awning grew stifling, and Gerda left it for our midday meal,
coming to the after deck, and sitting there with us. Presently she
looked at our dress and smiled, jesting a little. Then she set her
hand on the little chest of gold which stood on the deck by her and
opened it.
"I am going to ask you to wear some of these things," she said,
half shyly. "I have a fancy to see you three as you should be, with
the things which belong to your rank on you."
Bertric shook his head at that. "No, lady," he said. "What need?"
"Maybe I would see my friends as they should be," she answered.
"Maybe I would fain for once give the gifts a queen may give, if
never again. And maybe it is as well that some of these treasures
should be shared among us because we know not what may come."
"Well," said Bertric, laughing, "maybe they will not be so likely
to go overboard without us."
Now, I cannot tell all that was in her mind, but so she would have
it; and as it was true enough that if we were wrecked we were more
likely to save somewhat if it was on us, we let her have her way.
So in the end she chose out the heavy golden bracelets which
Bertric and I should wear, and then asked Dalfin, laughing, what
was the token of the rank of a prince in his land. It was the
torque which Heidrek's men had taken from him, and I told her so.
Whereon she took from the casket a wonderful, twisted torque, the
like of which I had never seen, for it was not of Norse work, and
gave it to him. He took it and looked at it curiously, and his face
lighted up. It had some strange writings on it, and he read them.
Then he turned to Gerda, and it was plain that somewhat had pleased
him mightily.
"Queen," he said, "this is a greater gift to me than you ken. It is
strange that this torque should come to me here, for there is a
song of it which I have known since I was able to learn aught. It
is the song of its losing."
"Thorwald, my grandfather, won it on the high seas from Danish
Vikings," she answered eagerly. "What is the story?"
"It is the royal torque of our house," he said. "It was lost when
my kinsman, Dubhtach of the Spearshafts, fell at Howth. In the song
are the names of Danish princes who fell ere it was won from us,
and they are not a few. Now your folk have avenged the loss, and
the luck of the O'Neills has come back. And, faith, it was time it
did, for mighty little luck have we had since it went from us."
Then he bent his knee in princely fashion, and kissed the hand of
the giver, and so set the torque on his neck. It bent easily, and
fastened with hooked ends. Plain enough it was that he felt that he
had recovered a treasure.
"See," said Bertric, "here is wind coming."
There were thunder clouds working up from the north and east, and a
haze was gathering overhead. Soon, in the stillness, the thunder
rumbled across the sea, and the heavy drops of the first rain fell,
bringing with them cold draughts of wind, which filled the sail for
a moment, uselessly, and were gone.
Then across the northern sea grew and spread a line of white which
swept down on us swiftly, and with a roar the squall, which came
before the wall of rain, was on us. Something lifted forward and
fled downwind like a broken-winged red and white bird. Gerda's
awning had gone; and Dalfin shouted. But we could not heed that. We
were wrestling with the helm, for the wind was heavy and unsteady,
and the thunder rolled round us and above us, while the lightning
shot in jagged streaks from cloud to sea incessantly. The rain came
in torrents, whitening the sea; but Gerda stood with her arm round
the high sternpost, with her yellow hair flying and the water
streaming from her, seeming to enjoy the turmoil.
The rain swept past, and the wind fell suddenly, as it had come.
For a few minutes the sail hung and flapped, and then the worst
happened. I heard Bertric cry to us to hold on, and a fresh squall
was on us. It came out of the south as if hurled at us, taking the
sail aback. The forestay parted, and then with a crash and rending
of broken timber the mast went some six feet from the deck, falling
aft and to port, and taking with it half the length of the gunwale
from amidships.
After that crash we stood and looked at one another, each fearing
that there must be some hurt. But there was none. We had been well
aft, and the falling masthead and yard had not reached us, though
it had been too near to be pleasant. Maybe the end of the yard, as
it fell, missed me by a foot or so.
But though Gerda's face was pale, and her eyes wide with the terror
of the wreck, she never screamed or let go her hold of the
sternpost to which she had been clinging. She was a sea king's
daughter.